The Iliad, Homer [librera reader .TXT] 📗
- Author: Homer
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Them left he there, their bare breasts gleaming white, Stripp’d of their arms; and hasten’d in pursuit Of Antiphus and Isus, Priam’s sons,
A bastard one, and one legitimate,
Both on one car; the bastard held the reins: Beside him stood the gallant Antiphus.
Them, as they fed their flocks on Ida’s heights, Achilles once had captive made, and bound With willow saplings, till for ransom freed.
The mighty monarch, Agamemnon, drove
Through Isus’ breast his spear; his weighty sword Descended on the head of Antiphus
Beside the ear, and hurl’d him from his car; These of their armour he despoil’d in haste, Known to him both; for he had seen them oft Beside the ships, when thither captive brought From Ida by Achilles, swift of foot.
As when a lion in their lair hath seiz’d The helpless offspring of a mountain doe, And breaks their bones with ease, and with strong teeth Crushes their tender life; nor can their dam, Though close at hand she be, avail them aught; For she herself by deadly terror seiz’d, Through the thick coppice and the forest flies, Panting, and bath’d in sweat, the monster’s rush; So dar’d no Trojan give those brethren aid, Themselves in terror of the warlike Greeks.
Peisander next, and bold Hippolochus,
Sons of Antimachus (‘twas he who chief, Seduc’d by Paris’ gold and splendid gifts, Advis’d the restitution to refuse
Of Helen to her Lord), the King assail’d; Both on one car; but from their hands had dropp’d The broider’d reins; bewilder’d there they stood; While, with a lion’s bound, upon them sprang The son of Atreus; suppliant, in the car, They clasp’d his knees; “Give quarter, Atreus’ son, Redeem our lives; our sire Antimachus
Possesses goodly store of brass and gold, And well-wrought iron; and of these he fain Would pay a noble ransom, could he hear That in the Grecian ships we yet surviv’d.”
Thus they, with gentle words, and tears, imploring; But all ungentle was the voice they heard In answer; “If indeed ye be the sons
Of that Antimachus, who counsel gave,
When noble Menelaus came to Troy
With sage Ulysses, as ambassadors,
To slay them both, nor suffer their return, Pay now the forfeit of your father’s guilt.”
He said, and with a spear-thrust through his breast Peisander dash’d to earth; backward he fell.
Down leap’d Hippolochus; but Atreus’ son Severing his hands and neck, amid the throng Sent whirling like a bowl the gory head.
These left he there; and where the thickest throng Maintain’d the tug of war, thither he flew, And with him eager hosts of well-greav’d Greeks.
Soon on the Trojans’ flight enforc’d they hung, Destroying; foot on foot, and horse on horse; While from the plain thick clouds of dust arose Beneath the armed hoofs of clatt’ring steeds; And on the monarch Agamemnon press’d,
Still slaying, urging still the Greeks to arms.
As when amid a densely timber’d wood
Light the devouring flames, by eddying winds Hither and thither borne, fast falls the copse Prostrate beneath the fire’s impetuous course; So thickly fell the flying Trojans’ heads Beneath the might of Agamemnon’s arm;
And here and there, athwart the pass of war, Was many an empty car at random whirl’d By strong-neck’d steeds, of guiding hands bereft; Stretch’d on the plain they lay, more welcome sight To carrion birds than to their widow’d wives.
But Hector, from the fray and din of war, And dust, and blood, and carnage, Jove withdrew.
Still on Atrides press’d, the Greek pursuit With eager shouts exciting; past the tomb Of Ilus, ancient son of Dardanus,
And tow’rd the fig-tree, midway o’er the plain, Straining to gain the town, the Trojans fled; While loudly shouting, his unconquer’d hands With carnage dyed, Atrides urg’d their flight.
But when the Scaean gates and oak were reach’d, They made a stand, and fac’d the foe’s assault.
Some o’er the open plain were yet dispers’d; As heifers, by a lion scatter’d wide,
At dead of night; all fly; on one descends The doom of death; her with his pow’rful teeth He seizes, and, her neck first broken, rends, And on her entrails gorging, laps her blood.
So these the monarch Agamemnon chas’d, Slaying the hindmost; they in terror fled: Some headlong, backward some, Atrides’ hand Hurl’d from their chariot many a warrior bold; So forward and so fierce he bore his spear.
But as he near’d the city, and stood beneath The lofty wall, the Sire of Gods and men From Heav’n descended; on the topmost height Of Ida’s spring-abounding hill he sat: And while his hand the lightning grasp’d, he thus To golden-winged Iris gave command:
“Haste thee, swift Iris, and to Hector bear From me this message; bid him, that as long As Agamemnon in the van appears,
Raging, and dealing death among the ranks, He from the battle keep himself aloof, But urge the rest undaunted to maintain The stubborn fight; but should Atrides, struck By spear or arrow, to his car withdraw, He shall from me receive such pow’r to slay, As to the ships shall bear him, ere the sun Decline, and Darkness spread her hallowing shade.”
Thus he; to Troy, obedient to his word, From Ida’s heights swift-footed Iris sped: Amid the horses and the well-fram’d cars The godlike Hector, Priam’s son, she found, And stood beside him, and address’d him thus: “Hector, thou son of Priam, sage as Jove In council, he the Universal Lord
Sends thee by me this message; that as long As Agamemnon in the van appears,
Raging, and dealing death amid the ranks, Thou from the battle keep thyself aloof, But urge the rest undaunted to maintain The stubborn fight; but should Atrides, struck By spear or arrow, to his car withdraw, Thou shalt from him receive such pow’r to slay As to the ships shall bear thee, ere the sun Decline, and Darkness spread her hallowing shade.”
Swift-footed Iris said, and disappear’d; But from his chariot Hector leap’d to earth, Hither and thither passing through the ranks, With brandish’d jav’lins urging to the fight.
Loud, at his bidding, rose the battle-cry; Back roll’d the tide; again they fac’d the Greeks: On th’ other side the Greeks their masses form’d, In line of battle rang’d; opposed they stood; And in the front, to none content to cede The foremost place, was Agamemnon seen.
Say now, ye Nine, who on Olympus dwell, Of all the Trojans and their fam’d Allies, Who first oppos’d to Agamemnon stood.
Iphidamas, Antenor’s gallant son,
Stalwart and brave; in fertile Thracia bred, Mother of flocks; him, in his infant years, His grandsire Cisseus, fair Theano’s sire, In his own palace rear’d; and when he reach’d The perfect measure of his glorious youth, Still in his house retain’d him, and to wife Gave him his daughter; but when tidings came Of Grecian warfare, from the marriage straight Embarking, with twelve beaked ships he sailed, That owned his sway; these on Percote’s shore He left; and came himself on foot to Troy; Who now confronted Atreus’ godlike son.
When near they drew, Atrides miss’d his aim, His spear diverging; then Iphidamas
Beneath the breastplate, striking on his belt, Strove with strong hand to drive the weapon home: Yet could not pierce the belt’s close-plaited work; The point, encounter’d by the silver fold, Was bent, like lead; then with his pow’rful hand The monarch Agamemnon seiz’d the spear, And tow’rd him drew, and with a lion’s strength Wrench’d from his foeman’s grasp; then on his neck Let fall his sword, and slack’d his limbs in death.
There, falling in his country’s cause, he slept The iron sleep of death; unhappy he,
Far from his virgin-bride, yet unpossess’d, Though bought with costly presents; first he gave A hundred steers; and promis’d thousands more Of sheep and goats from out his countless flocks.
Him Agamemnon of his arms despoil’d,
And to the crowd of Greeks the trophies bore.
But when Antenor’s eldest-born beheld, Coon, th’ observ’d of all men, bitt’rest grief His eyes o’ershadow’d, for his brother’s fate; And, unperceiv’d by Atreus’ godlike son, Standing aside, he struck him with his spear, Through the mid arm, beneath the elbow’s bend; And drove right through the weapon’s glitt’ring point.
Writh’d with the pain the mighty King of men; Yet from the combat flinch’d he not, nor quail’d: But grasping firm his weather-toughen’d spear On Coon rush’d, as by the feet he drew His father’s son, Iphidamas, away,
Invoking all the bravest to his aid;
And as he drew the body tow’rd the crowd, Beneath the bossy shield the monarch thrust His brass-clad spear, and slack’d his limbs in death; Then near approaching, ev’n upon the corpse Of dead Iphidamas, struck off his head: So by Atrides’ hand, Antenor’s sons,
Their doom accomplish’d, to the shades were sent.
Then through the crowded ranks, with spear and sword, And massive stones, he held his furious course, While the hot blood was welling from his arm; But when the wound was dry, and stanch’d the blood, Keen anguish then Atrides’ might subdued.
As when a woman in her labour-throes
Sharp pangs encompass, by Lucina sent, Who rules o’er child-birth travail, ev’n so keen The pangs that then Atrides’ might subdued.
Mounting his car he bade his charioteer Drive to the ships; for sore his spirit was pain’d; But loud and clear he shouted to the Greeks: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, Yours be it now our sea-borne ships to guard: Since Jove, the Lord of counsel, through the day Wills not that I the battle should maintain.”
He said: and swiftly to the ships were driv’n His sleek-skinn’d coursers; nothing loth they flew; With foam their chests were fleck’d, with dust their flanks, As from the field their wounded Lord they bore: But Hector, as he saw the King retire, To Trojans and to Lycians call’d aloud: “Trojans and Lycians, and ye Dardans fam’d In close encounter, quit ye now like men; Put forth your wonted valour; from the field Their bravest has withdrawn, and Jove on me Great glory hath shed; now headlong on the Greeks Urge your swift steeds, and endless honour gain.”
His words fresh courage rous’d in ev’ry breast: And as a hunter cheers his sharp-fang’d hounds On forest boar or lion; on the Greeks
So cheer’d the valiant Trojans Priam’s son, Illustrious Hector, stern as blood-stain’d Mars.
Bent on high deeds, himself in front advanc’d, Fell on the masses as a whirlwind falls, Lashing with furious sweep the dark-blue sea.
Say then, who first, who last, by Hector’s hand, Whom Jove had will’d to crown with honour, died.
Assaeus first, and then Autonous,
Opites, and Opheltius, Dolops, son
Of Clytus, and AEsumnus, Agelas
And Orus, and brave Hipponous;
All these the chiefs of Greece; the nameless crowd He scatter’d next; as when the west wind drives The clouds, and battles with the hurricane, Before the clearing blast of Notus driv’n; The big waves heave and roll, and high aloft, The gale, careering, flings the ocean spray; So thick and furious fell
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